Wild North
by WhiteWings9
Summary: Ivan, a seasoned dog sledder in the Alaskan wilderness for the US postal service, is given a pup in human form. Fluff and Smut. PWP. Alternate Universe - Dog Sledding. Russia/America.


**Wild North**

Ivan had always worked alone. He was part of the dog-sledding branch of the US postal service and ran mail deliveries across Alaska during winter. But in warmer months when the services of his team were not needed he filled his time hunting and lumbering, stocking up on meat, fur and firewood for the winter months ahead, and occasionally fished for sport. His only company were his dogs, all eight of them he raised from pups and trained himself to be the fastest team in the service. He liked his life of solitude and never wished for anything else, never felt the need for much human contact.

So when one day the postal service dropped on him a young Texan who knew absolutely nothing about dog-sledding or the harshness of the northern wilderness to train, it came as a bit of a shock.

"Hey, thanks for having m–"

"Listen, pup. You are to stay in the cabin and do everything I say, do you understand? Your job is to split the firewood stacked in the shed over there, skin the furs of game I bring back, make our meals, wash our laundry, muck out the dog kennels, and anything else I can think of. Write it all down. I won't repeat myself."

He had hoped to scare away the overly-tanned whippersnapper out of his life and back to his cows and show horses and whatever else they have in Texas with sheer hard work. But Alfred applied himself to every task set to him and never once complained. As spring turned summer and thawed even the thickest of ice, Ivan found himself warming up to the stubborn pup in spite of himself. He did not know when it was that Alfred became a natural presence in his life, but that came to pass as well.

* * *

It was the tail end of August and there a new chill in the air warning of approaching winter. For Ivan it was still pretty warm, and usually he used only enough firewood for cooking and bathing. But Alfred, used to a warmer climate, did not adapt as easily. He took pity on the pup and allowed him his fires, making it a point to keep the woodshed fully stocked. There was time to break him into the Alaskan winter yet, when their services are called in once the snows come.

"A-aren't you c-c-cold? Dressed like th-that?"

Ivan looked down at himself, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, and thought he was dressed warmly enough in a shirt and a light cardigan.

"Not really," he said. He was actually feeling a little stifled with the inferno Alfred had stoked up in the fireplace but he chose not to say anything.

As August turned to September and the night frost began to stick during the day as well, Alfred's fires were consuming their log pile at an increasingly alarming rate, and Ivan felt he could no longer afford to spoil his pup lest he wished to deforest the whole of Alaska.

"But it's cold!" Alfred whined when he stopped him from adding more to the fire that night.

He pulled a trembling Alfred to his chest, the poor lad still a southern sapling, and wrapped a fur throw around the both of them, setting his chin on top of Alfred's ash blond head.

"So I'll keep you warm," he said. "Now keep quiet and show me your needlework."

They began to while away the evening hours in that manner, both sat on the bear rug in front of a moderate fire, Alfred's back to Ivan, the former stitching pieces of leather and fur together as the latter watched, dozing slightly, the northern wind rattling the cabin and blowing intricate frost patterns Alfred would admire the next morning on the window panes. It became another natural part of their lives. Alfred would leap into Ivan after dinner, excited as any real pup he had ever raised, and the would stay glued that way until it was time for bed.

* * *

One night in celebration of the first dusting of snow on the ground outside, Ivan broke out his store of vodka and they had a few sips after a particularly rich dinner Ivan cooked up for the both of them. It turned out that Alfred was also new to alcohol, and although he had improved his sewing he was clumsy with the needle that evening. When he pricked his finger really badly, Ivan took his hand and stuck the digit into his own mouth to suck it clean, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do.

That somehow led to their mouths coming together and their hands roving all over one another, snaking under clothes to feel bare skin, map out plains of flesh and taut, wiry muscles, a growing member…

Alfred broke from the kiss with a strained, "Oh god!" as Ivan started to stroke him in quick, jerky movements of his hand. His lips latched to the side of Alfred's neck and marked him just above the collar of his shirt, just so it would be visible. Alfred panted and hitched, his torso curving in a bow shape, his cock brought out fully and exposed to be already weeping in the firelight. He clutched at Ivan and moaned wantonly, his face red from the heat of the fire and the alcohol and the flames of his own lust. He was beautiful, Ivan thought. He was beautiful and his body sang to his touch as if he were an instrument and he a musician, coaxing out the most wonderful noises from lips reddened to a pretty shade.

He climaxed with a small groan, stiffening and shuddering from all the accumulated tension. Then he came down, panting and perspiring, head dropping into Ivan's shoulder, and Ivan's hand came away sticky with his seeds. He pressed a soft kiss to Alfred's sweat-drenched brow. The fire was falling low but for once Alfred was not rushing to throw in more logs. He was still caught in the afterglow when Ivan shifted his weight and brought Alfred closer to him, swaddling him thicker in the fur throw.

* * *

"W-we shouldn't have done that."

Ivan blinked, surprised, uncomprehending, at the words Alfred had uttered soft enough he could have pretended not to hear. But he was concerned.

"Why not?"

They had retreated to Ivan's bed in the corner in the cabin, skipping past the makeshift cot that had been Alfred's own sleeping quarters for the last few months, and lay naked together under a good heaping of fur. They were warm, they were comfortable, and they were growing sleepy from lovemaking. But Ivan snapped wide awake at Alfred's words, and Alfred sensed the change he had caused in his mentor.

"B-because!" Alfred sat up quickly, pulling one of the furs to cover his modesty. His face was flushing, but from embarrassment this time. "I-it's not right. I'm sorry, but can we forget it happened, please?"

Ivan stared into beseeching blue, the colour of a clear blue sky, and he found his heart shrivelling at the rejection he thought he saw in them.

"No," he said simply.

Alfred looked ready to cry.

He tried to stand up, but his feet got tangled in the furs and he stumbled, falling heavily back to bed. Ivan was up in a trice and he grabbed hold of Alfred tight.

"Why are you asking for it to never happen?" he growled, fury in his voice, as Alfred struggled to free himself.

"L-let go…"

"Answer me first!"

He threw Alfred into the furs, pinning him by his wrists and kissed him, kissed him hard. He knew now that he wanted this, he wanted Alfred. And he knew that Alfred wanted him too.

So why was he telling him to forget everything?

"Alfred," he panted. "Alfred, look at me. Look."

Alfred was trembling, but he obeyed the command and cracked open his eyes.

"Did you like it when I kissed you?"

Alfred nodded.

"When I touched you?"

Alfred hesitated only slightly before nodding.

Ivan felt a rush of relief. He dropped his forehead to Alfred's, finding that their breathing matched one another's perfectly. He stared straight into Alfred's eyes, wanting to know just what Alfred really meant, and asked seriously, "Then why did you say it wasn't right?"

"Because it's not natural!" Alfred burst.

Ivan blinked again, utterly confused. He saw panic seized Alfred and he wished he had not pushed the subject after all. Alfred attempted to squirm himself free but he held firm to him, feeling that if he let him go now he would never win him back.

"But Alfred, I don't understand."

He dipped his head and trailed a kiss along the side of Alfred's neck. Alfred stiffened all over, letting out a hitched breath he immediately tried to swallow. He began to tremble all over as Ivan switched around and kissed the other side of his neck, revisiting the mark he left there with a swipe of his tongue.

"I don't understand why you think this isn't natural," he murmured as he moved his lips down, down to a perfectly sculpted collarbone and sucked briefly at it, admiring his still-tanned skin. "This is the most natural thing in the world," he continued, kissing every part he could as he worked his way down Alfred's chest. "I want this. You want this. What is it that is so unnatural to you?"

He brought his own erection to Alfred's to make his point. Alfred flushed again. He had thrown an arm across his face, but now he peered at Ivan from under it, looking so completely aroused and dishevelled Ivan thought his heart would burst.

"Alfred, I love you."

The words slipped from his mouth hoarse with desire and without any thought, yet he knew them to be true the minute they left his lips. Alfred's eyes widened to a bright and impossible blue.

"Ivan… I-I l-l-love y–"

It was enough, it was all he wanted. He captured Alfred's lips in a kiss that was rough and sloppy but it did not matter, his heart thundering, _oh thank god! Thank god!_

The night yawned seemingly into eternity, a lifetime in a moment as they consummated their newly expressed love. The wind whipped along the trees, bringing with it the first flurry of snow that would not melt in the day and keep on falling. Winter had arrived.

* * *

**A/n:** At an age when little girls dream of ponies or something, I was completely obsessed with Jack London novels and went on to consume anything and everything to do with wolves or Huskies and dog sledding. _White Fang_ is easily my first memory of reading and finishing a book for adults and_ Balto_ my favourite animated film. There were a number of other 'doggies in snow' stories I was into as well but I can't remember them now orz

I guess the fascination lay in the fact that I was born and raised on the equator and never knew winter or seen snow until I moved to the UK quite late in life. It was a whole other world quite literally. I thought I've grown out of it, but revisiting some old favourites brought back the same feels orz orz

So what do I do with childhood feels at a university-attending age? Write RusAme porn of course! Hope you enjoy ^^/


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